know, I
wouldn't ha' let Dan Barnett shoulder me out, and stand in first with
the prettiest and best young lady in these parts. Evening!"

"Here, hi! You!" came from behind them, and the person in question
strode up, looking frowning and angry.

"You ca' me, Mr Dan?"

"Yes; did you finish wheeling up that stuff?"

"Aye; I fishened it all 'fore I left work. Good-evening."

He left the two young men standing together, and there was a peculiar,
malicious look in the fresh-comer's eyes as he gave John Grange a short
nod.

"Mrs Mostyn say anything to you 'bout the cedar?"

"Yes; she said the broken stump was to be cut off to-morrow."

"Then you'd better get the ladders and ropes ready first thing."

"You mean _we_ had better," said John Grange quietly.

"No, I don't. I'm not going to break my neck for thirty shillings a
week. Heard how Dunton is?"

"Very bad. Doctor Manning was here again this evening."

"Well, he's nearly ninety--a man can't expect to live for ever. Time he
did go."

John Grange walked away toward the head-gardener's cottage to ask for
the last news, and Daniel Barnett stood watching him with a frown on his
rather handsome features.

"Poor old Dunton!" said John Grange to himself; "we shall miss him when
he's gone."

"Hang him!" muttered Barnett, "that's it. I saw him talking to the old
man, but he hasn't won yet. Insolence, eh? I like that. The Barnetts
are as good as the Ellis's, anyhow. Wait a bit, my lady, and I may take
a bit of the pride out of you."

Some men have a habit of thinking across the grain.

CHAPTER TWO.

At seven o'clock next morning John Grange felt better when he stood with
Daniel Barnett, old Tummus, and Mary Ellis's father at the foot of the
great cedar facing the house, a tree sadly shorn of its beauty by a
sudden squall that had swept down the valley, and snapped off the top,
where an ugly stump now stood out forty feet from the lawn.

Grange felt better, for in spite of his hectoring, triumphant manner, it
was plain to see that Daniel Barnett had not sped well with Mary's
father, whatever might have been his success with the lady herself.

James Ellis was no longer young, and early work before breakfast had
grown distasteful; still, he had come to see the broken stump sawn off.

The ladder had been raised, and got into position, but it was too short
by ten feet, and there was an awkward climb before the man who went up
could use the saw or